


you were there for me, when i was falling apart

by melancholycandies



Series: healing hands [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Keith/Lance (Voltron), Healing, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Post Season 8, Spoilers, Supportive Keith, a year and a half after my bby's death, heavily mentioned allurance, kaltenecker is here too, keith comforting lance bc why not, my love triangle deserved better y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-19 11:16:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17000544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholycandies/pseuds/melancholycandies
Summary: SPOILERS: POST SEASON 8Lance is dealing with the death of his first love and Keith helps him grow into a better person.(Or, the arc/character development Lance deserves with Keith helping him as much as he can.)





	1. something in me makes you wanna stay

**Author's Note:**

> hey so I decided to join in with the fics after that whiplashing season (Allura my girl, you deserved a lot better than this). I wanted to give Lance a chance to properly heal and a possible reason as to why he's on a random fucking farm on Altea instead of Earth. take your time to read this and I hope you heal a little like I did whilst writing this. also, I used 'dobashes' and 'ticks' interchangeably with months and seconds because I was too lazy to change things. 
> 
> P.s: I really like 'Healing Hands' by Conrad Sewell to be the theme of this, thus the title.

It was a warm, lightly humid evening. Soft breeze dancing around the vast open fields, luminescent fire fuelled flowers decorated the landscape. Silence sang with the distant chirps of birds echoed from the forests.

He stepped out of the iridescent greenhouse, fairy lights twinkling in the atmosphere of the calm afterhours. Willing the thorns of melancholy away, his eyes flitted from the mocha dusted floors to the subdue serene scene sprawled in front of him. One of the flowers tucked neatly behind his ear, he ran a hand through his slightly outgrown hair. It’s been over a year since he last dragged himself for a haircut.

Lance drummed his fingers against his thigh, absorbing the scenery around him. He saw thin slivers of turquoise swirl into the air from the flowers, his heart pinching. Living on a farm wasn’t what he initially wanted; his body called out to space, called out to fly through sparkling galaxies and let his adrenaline take over again. His cells called out to earth, to feel the heat of the Cuban sun and salty waves pamper his skin and the perspiration mix in with the water as he floated with the ocean.

He begged and pleaded with the people on Earth – the reluctance on all of their faces were evident, they were aware that heartbreak could turn into self-destruction – to let him help rebuild the planet and help it heal. It worked for the first three months until his mother pulled him aside, kissing his forehead when she noticed a frown tugging at his sunshine façade. She bundled his lanky figure into her arms, running her fingers through his cinnamon locks and whispered ‘ _it’s okay’_ and _‘I love you’_ s into his ear as he violently shook from all the suppressed emotion.

She wasn’t supposed to leave him behind. He wouldn’t have cared about the other realities if it meant that she’d be safe, alive and smiling with all of the happiness shining from her heart. He wanted to be with her, even if it meant having only one reality existing. That reality would’ve been the one that mattered the most. She would still be alive in that reality.

Nightmares of vicious violet lightning, attacking her, reducing her into crumbling dust that would be blown away into the black holes of the universe chased him mercilessly, night after night. He’d wake up after being swallowed into nothingness, heart vigorously pounding and gasping lungs. Tears pooled down his cheeks, drenched his pillows and trembling hands. Stark cold sweat soaked his thin clothing and silk blankets. The panic attacks followed him into the day, when the room around him was quiet and he was struck with visions of her.

Laughing with everything from inside of her when she felt the joke everywhere, smiling fondly at the mice with mischief toying her lips, sky blue eyes glistening with happiness whenever she talked about Altea, her first home and place of endless comfort. He saw her everywhere – it haunted him to the point of swollen dark circles, sullen unhealthy cheeks and dull fleeting eyes. Lips cracked from anxious gnawing, nails bitten from frantic thinking, he couldn’t breathe anymore. She took the air away from him after she faded into the light, after she kissed permanent reminders of her onto his cheekbones. He automatically shunned away from any possible reflection of him – he wasn’t ready to look at himself again, after that one look in the mirror shoved him into his room for two weeks and left him in a shuddering mess.

His senses dulled, remained dormant for three months after her death. He turned away from the worried eyes and creasing foreheads. Words fell silent to his ears, soundless lips moving but he didn’t want to listen. He couldn’t listen even if he tried. The shock ebbed but denial stuck by his side until a pair of steady hands shook his shoulders firmly. He finally woke up when a pair of striking violet eyes and shaggy mullet fiercely dragged him out of his emotional slumber – he felt his first breath of air seep into his body.

The next day, he couldn’t coat over his emotions any longer and his mother was the second person to peel back another layer of grief.

After a mutual (and difficult) agreement, Lance’s family and him started a fresh slate in newly created Altea. The construction of the farm – and Altea, as suggested by Coran – dragged out for five months, a newfound goal to keep the dangers of his mourning heart from consuming his being. Keith visited them once every month, whenever his duties allowed, after helping them with the move. Lance found his thoughts to have quiet down whenever he knocked on the door and greeted Lance with a basket full of treats he had collected from whichever planet he’s stationed at.

Eight months after her death, Lance rebuilt the courage to return the countless number of unanswered calls from Pidge, Hunk and the occasional check-up messages from Shiro. He began to have weekly group calls, with Pidge rambling about a new project they’re working on with their brother, providing in-depth explanations of each function and Hunk raving about a new recipe he’s concocted after, usually, an accidental mixture of different ingredients. Shiro and him usually briefly discussed Lance’s wellbeing, followed by updates on Earth and other galaxies. He found that the conversations, meet ups and check-ups helped eased the tension between his shoulders and mind – he was able to stomach seeing flickers of her dancing around him, the night terrors growing easier to handle, the panic attacks now smothered before being able to ignite his lungs.

Working alongside Coran enabled Lance to understand Altea and its history. It unlocked a string of curiosity that he began to chase. He felt her everywhere; hidden in the glowing constellations above him, hidden in the centre of each flower that scattered all over the planet, hidden in the proud smiles of passing by Alteans, hidden in the gentle breeze of spring coloured forests, hidden in his calloused fingertips brushing the sensitive marks she left behind. He still couldn’t think about them, with bile burning the back of his throat and the corner of his eyes threatened with tears.

Ten months later brought Lance out on the field, bare feet tickled with the warm, damp grass and twinkling stars.

‘The farmer ways are catching up to you,’ teased a deep voice from his left.

Lance swivelled around to a familiar long haired mullet – now pulled back into a low ponytail –, violet eyes vibrant with the light from the stars splattered above them, carrying a basket in one arm.

‘Watch it mullet, I know how to grow things other than pretty flowers,’ Lance retorted.

Keith snorted at the empty threat, now moving closer to stand next Lance. They stared out at the soft hues of the flowers and the muted glow of the constellations that seemed to sparkle a fraction brighter than it did a few dobashes ago.

‘How are the Olkarians?’ Keith had told Lance, before he left, that his next project would be in a forgotten planet that the Olkarians were stationed at, after their escape from their home planet.

‘It’s nothing like their original home but it’s improved a lot since I last saw them. They’d managed to create bonds between the planet and their minds with help from Pidge and Matt. I shouldn’t have been surprised at how fast they worked in just four months.’ Lance took in the information, letting Keith’s voice ease the tension between his muscles.

‘How’s things going here? Has Kaltenecker given birth yet?’ A soft smile eased onto Lance’s face, recalling the day he and the rest of his family were woken up by aggressive mooing which sounded close to wails.

They’d rushed out of the house and into the barn, where Kaltenecker continuously wailed until they realised that she was giving birth. They all sat around, watching the process happen, Lance cooing calming words to the cow as she pushed out her calves. It had certainly been a day he could never forget.

‘She gave birth to twins. According to some of the farmers on Earth, twins are special cases. But Kaltenecker has travelled through galaxies and helped us escape from that weird mall cop so it’s no surprise that she had twins instead of a calf.’ They chuckled lightly, Keith glancing at Lance for a tick before looking back onto the field.

‘It’s been a year and a half,’ Keith whispered, Lance fought down a sharp intake at the statement.

‘Yeah, it has,’ Lance’s voice sounded small, a hint of disbelief lingered.

‘Are you okay?’ He was thrown off guard.

He hasn’t heard those words in a while, everyone tip-toeing around the topic. He could see the question in their faces whenever he’d take a little longer to wake up in the morning or whenever he’d spend a little longer out on the fields than necessary. It used to create an irritating itch that demanded to be scratched – which led to months of heated arguments that ended in tight embraces with tears running down all of their cheeks – but after a sit down with Keith, stripping down the loud thoughts and forcing his eyes open, Lance began to understand. Every emotional wound he suffered, they burdened too.

He realised that the hesitance and reluctance wasn’t to ignore his feelings, but because of their overwhelming love and concern for him. He called them all to sit down on the couches, announcing a family meeting. He stripped his layers once again, unlocking a part of himself and told them how he felt. They returned the gesture and ended the night with a sweet kiss to the forehead. He woke up the next morning, feeling the weight on his chest feel lighter than the night before.

‘I think I am. I don’t feel like throwing up every time I see the marks on my cheeks anymore. I feel as if I’ve started to accept them as a part of myself, even if she gave them to me. I think it’s what she would’ve wanted.’ Lance looked up at the constellations, his smile now brighter.

‘You deserve to feel happy. I’m glad to see a real smile on your annoying face.’ Keith smiled, looking at Lance.

‘Please, you’re just jealous of my face.’ Lance turned his attention to Keith, a fonder smile now melted into his face.

Keith let loose a light-hearted chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. Lance’s eyes flitted to the basket, curiosity and excitement brewed in anticipation.

‘What did you bring back this time? Don’t tell me it’s another one of those mutated frogs with the ugly shark teeth.’ Lance groaned as he recalls the memory.

Keith had just returned from Olkaria 2.0 and not only brought back snacks, but a creature as well. Lance immediately dove for it, scooping it into his palms and stared at it. It had midnight coloured skin with neon blue streaks, bleary ocean blue eyes and slightly slimy feet. It reminded Lance of Cosmo, who usually roamed and transported around Altea during Keith’s visits.

Lance held the creature up to his eye level, nose touching nose. He felt his cheekbones tingle for a second whilst the creature’s streaks glowed brighter. “A bonding moment”, Lance would’ve called it. Until the creature suddenly opened its mouth, revealing hundreds of miniature, razor sharp shark teeth and bit into Lance’s nose. The next hour consisted of Keith apologising twice - which was accompanied by twitching lips - while Lance’s mother mixed up a simple paste to soothe the swelling area. He still winced at the harsh stings he felt for the rest of the evening.

‘No weird creatures this time and I made sure to avoid anything frog related at all costs.’ Keith placed the basket in Lance’s outstretched hands.

He found a cloth tied together, containing what Lance assumes to be Olkarian treats, a few new tools that has Pidge’s distinct design style and a letter. Lance loves the letters the most. They’re written by the people on the planets, praising him for his hard work and strength, filling him up with pride. He keeps them all in a box he made himself as one of his first projects to learn construction.

‘Lance! Is that Keith? Bring him in!’ Lance’s mother shouts from the door, waving erratically at the boys on the field.

‘You’re just in time,’ they start to make their way to the house. ’She decided to try out one of Hunk’s special recipes that he sent through this morning and has been cooking all day. I was not allowed in the kitchen all day and nearly ate some of Kaltenecker’s food instead. Let’s just say she was not happy.’ Lance nudges Keith while they let out bubbles of laughter.

The back of their hands brush as they neared the doorway; Lance felt the tiny itch to hook his pinky around Keith’s.


	2. you're changing me, with the touch of your hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS: POST SEASON 8
> 
> Lance reads one of his letters, specifically, the one from Keith himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, I've decided to turn this into a series! from now on, it'll be one shots and I've decided to solely focus on Lance and his relationships with other characters (Klance is still the main but I wanna give other relationships their chances too). I hope this chapter makes you feel a little lighter and remember, to take your time reading this. Healing is a slow process, just like for Lance, taking things one step at a time helps everything feel better so try not to overwhelm yourself, especially after season 8's finale.
> 
> P.s: there is a description of a panic attack so if you are easily put off/feel uncomfortable with that, you should be able to skip one or two paragraphs.

Dewy sunlight shot through the window and onto Lance’s face. The cold, bleak corners now lit with the familiar warmth of the Altean sun. He felt the stiffness in his muscles immediately numb his body, needles of pain making itself known as he rolled away from the sun’s welcome. The nightmares must’ve been relentless during his sleep.

The distant clatter of pans, gushing water, shuffling footsteps and light chatter grew louder as his senses began to focus on his surroundings. Rubbing the heel of his palm against his swollen bags, Lance willed himself to open his eyes. He turned his head toward the direction of the sun, eyes drawn to the basket next to his closet, with an indigo box beside it. It took him a few ticks to remember that Keith was back.

Head slightly spinning from dragging himself out of bed, he kneeled down in front of the box, slight agar. It took him weeks to create the box; he can distinctively remember the countless amount of cuts, bruises and blisters he had gained. The first two weeks were more painful than the rest; taking out his frustration on his hands earned him a fierce scolding from his mother and slower paced lessons from his father.

 _‘Patience mijo, you need to allow yourself to be patient with yourself.’_ His father had calmly told him after watching the tears gather in Lance’s eyes and fresh bruises already turning into deep blue splotches.

He had spent the next three weeks slowly constructing it, letting himself take the time to build it rather than shabbily putting it together in one go. He’d work on it, day after day, perfecting the cuts by measuring down to the millimetre, sanding down the raw edges to prevent any future blisters, letting it come together piece by piece. The painting of it took another week, making sure to align the stars to form his favourite constellations that were visible from the farm, making sure to use the right mix between Persian blue and lavender every time, making sure to let a part of himself heal whilst putting in the final touches. It was easily the best thing he’d created in the first two months of living on Altea.

With the collection of letters building month by month, he made the instant decision to store them into his “treasure” box, as nicknamed by Keith when he took a look at it, watching Lance’s face beam with pride as he complimented the box. That day was the beginning of many, which allowed him to breathe in the fresh, crispy air instead of closing off his lungs in suffocation.

Fingers toying with the edge of the top, Lance pushed over the cover, bundling up the letters and taking them out of their home. He sifted through each one, eyes darting to find a specifically simplistic looking envelope. It was bare, with only his name scrawled messily on the front, and slightly tattered corners dusted in aged dust. A fond smile slipped onto his face as he recalled the story behind this particular visit.

Keith had found him in the greenhouse, brushing his fingers over the soft, sturdy petals of a sunflower – his younger sister, Maria, had brought the seeds with them before they left Earth and pleaded with him to help her grow them. His chest clenched at the sight of her pouty lips, widen puppy dog eyes – a McClain trait that should’ve enabled the ability to resist the look – and that sent them to work for the rest of the day. Lance heard the footsteps before his voice, already identifying the distinctive stiff leather boots, towering relaxed posture and piercing, gentle eyes.

‘Missed me that much? It’s only been a few weeks since you last came around.’ Lance teased without lifting his gaze from the flower, that radiated kindness and tenderness, quirking up an eyebrow.

‘Don’t flatter yourself, I only came back for your mother’s food.’ Lance looked over at Keith, who sported a playful frown and amused, twinkling eyes.

‘I can’t blame you for that, her cooking is the best.’ He reflected Keith’s amusement more freely, still rubbing the petals between his fingers.

‘She gives Hunk a run for his money.’ He hummed in agreement and they fall into a comforting silence, giving him the strength to push away the looming thoughts that circled around earlier.

Lance had begun to venture around the farm earlier, feet eventually bringing him to the place that had stayed in the corner of his mind. Pidge and Hunk had flown into Altea to help build the greenhouse, taking momentary breaks from their duties on Earth once Coran called them to inform them about the construction project. Lance did a double take once his gaze settled on the two former Paladins, surprise brushing away any previous self-doubt that itched his skin from his regular emotional turmoils. It had been four months since he had last seen them face to face, before he had allowed himself to feel something other than the weight of his relentless thoughts.

He was looking for a place to let him breathe, to give him a chance to look ahead with clear eyes, instead of cloudy spots. Throat burning with the beginnings of a panic attack, he flung himself into the greenhouse, desperately willing for the sugar scents of different plants to seep into his skin and prevent the bile from rising to his mouth. Tears seared his cheeks, his marks tingling from the inner cyclone of guilt, heartache and longing. He still spiralled out of control, despite this being the second one this week.

He was supposed to be able to deal with it, be used to the pastel turquoise boomerangs on his cheekbones. It felt like a mockery, a pity gift, even though the suggestion would never be found in the princess’ mind. _His_ princess’ mind _._ He pushed himself to try for her, to stare intently into the mirror, fixating his gaze onto them whilst thinking of her. She ~~was~~ is his first priority and the least he could do for her was to try accept the markings she gave him. Her way of showing him that she’d chosen him to carry out her story; she should’ve never picked him, the person who is everyone’s last choice.

Last choice for a reason – now that their goal was completed and Voltron was no longer needed, that meant the team didn’t need their “Sharpshooter”. Meaning, Lance had no reason to linger around them anymore, especially now that they all had moved on and he was the only one that hadn’t. Heart lurching in his chest, the thought of being on a farm, in _Altea_ of all places, still pounded at his head. Even though it’s been five months since he had moved here and was thrusted into the whirlwinds of construction and rebuilding the planet, he couldn’t grasp the control over his thoughts and feelings.

Every time he allowed himself to make a lousy joke or pathetic pun and a smirk teasing the corners of his lips, he’d spot something in the distance that would glisten like a million diamonds or felt like something she would smile at and he would crack again. Guilt gnawing his insides, nails scraping his inner arms. He had vowed to himself that everything he’d do would be for her, regardless of how unhealthy it had sounded to his own ears. But he didn’t care anymore, he had lost all his grip and was grasping at his memories of her to prevent himself from dunking his head fully underwater. 

Shallow, rugged breathing now slowed down into a calmer pace as he shifted his gaze from the rich, red glazed cedar floorboards to a sunflower that had seemed to lean away from their bunch. It dropped on an angle, as if to mimic a slouch, and had managed to peak his interest in a split second from his dishevelled state. He moved forward, slowly lifting his fingers to stroke the edges and reaching to the underside of it, tilting it upwards. Just because he was struggling with his own demons, didn’t mean that this sunflower couldn’t be happy. It could be happy enough for the both of them.

He immersed himself into healing the flower, making sure to take extra, detailed care of it. He made sure to use the right amount of water to hydrate it, right type of fertiliser to nourish it and the right level of light to help it stand upright. A beautiful being like that should be standing strong and tall, not sag down with the weight of the world resting upon its shoulders. After taking a few steps back, a satisfied smile took over his face. He was then struck with a staggering realisation.

Just because he was battered and bruised from his ongoing war with his inner self, didn’t mean that he wasn’t allowed to take a short break from it once in a while. It was what they all had done when they lived on the castle, with the excruciatingly tiresome battle happening around them. They still carried on living doing what they genuinely found joy in and just enjoying each other’s company simply because they had deserved it. And even if Lance doesn’t deserve to take a break, he was exhausted from constantly _fighting_ with himself.  

He felt a subtle shift on his chest, heart now unclenched and relief kissing his forehead. The tingling from his marks now reduced to distance coolness, face now free from the fire of the fight. His lungs now welcomed air as a part of a cycle, instead of shoving it away. That was the moment he heard Keith’s boots approaching him.

‘What did you bring back from the Balmerans?’ Lance had stopped denying his interest in whatever Keith brought back with him, especially after Keith sending him a deadpanned _‘really?’_ stare, cutting right through Lance’s bullshit.

‘Have a look for yourself.’ Lance plucks the basket from Keith’s gloved hands, instantly digging through.

It was filled with cylinder shaped crystals, ranging in sizes, flickering colours and wild patterns. Lance’s eyes widened at the sight of a particular crystal, tucked into the corner. He pulled it out of its hiding spot to have a closer look, stomach fluttering at the beauty it held. It was an iridescent amethyst, with slender swirls of bright ocean blue – instantly reminding him of the soothing Cuban waters – and speckles of deep cherry red – reminding him of the different hues of red, orange and yellow that would bleed into the sky before the ebony black sky came around to replace it –, he clutched the crystal tightly in his palm.

‘Are…they nice? The Balmerans made one for each of your family members. And you, obviously. They tried to ask me for details but I wasn’t too sure and–’ Keith’s words faltered at the weight of Lance’s arms fiercely wrapped around his shoulders.

Lance felt the hesitance and stiffness in Keith’s shoulders at the sudden contact before arms snaking themselves around his waist, returning the ferocity. Lance breathed in the scent of strong leather, wood fire and mint, letting himself indulge in this moment of human interaction. He had impulsively wanted to show his appreciation for Keith and hugging him felt like the best way. It had felt natural and _right._

He pulled away, shaking off the dizziness from their intense hug.

‘That was our second bonding moment.’ Lance knew his laugh echoed all the way back to his house after he took one bewildered look at Keith and threw his head back when he couldn’t hold in his disbelief.

Tracing his name on the cover of the slightly bulging envelope, he flipped it over and pulled out the letters. Keith handed it to him at the end of his visit, before taking off in his pod and flying to a meeting with the Galra empire. He had a slightly embarrassed look, cheeks tinted with pastel pink and eyes finding the grass beneath them more fascinating when he handed over the envelope. He mentioned that there were two instead of one, and to read it whenever he felt like it.

Lance decided to open it the same night Keith left, intrigue heavy in his eyes as he read the first letter. It was another thank you message from the Balmerans and had sent a sweet smile to his face. The second one was small but he could had felt it, before opening it, that it would be a personal one.

_Lance,_

_I’ve never been good with words, which you know, but I wanted to say thank you. For being my right hand Sharpshooter and always having my back when I don’t seem to deserve it. I know it has been difficult for you, these last few months, but you are stronger than you believe. Strong, brave, cocky Lance who has not only survived the war but managed to keep everyone else smiling through it. Keep pushing through, I know you, over anyone else, can do that. See you soon._

_Keith._

Lance had felt an immense surge of strength rush forward, pulsing everywhere. It showed through when he woke up the next morning and kissed his mother on the cheek and took Maria on a piggyback jog to the sparkling fields. It showed when he went on his regular group call with Pidge and Hunk, rambling and light-heartedly complaining about the work Coran shoved into his arms, amusement and pride reflecting in his friends’ eyes at the rapid storytelling. It showed when he looked out onto the fields and felt a little lighter than he was used to – that letter was his boost whenever he felt the toxic thoughts push through his walls with impeccable force.

A soft smile made their way onto his face as he folded up the letters, sliding them into their envelope and placing it back into the box. He slowly stood up, making his way to the bathroom. He took in a breath, letting it out twice as slow and looked up. He looked into the only mirror in his room, absorbing every detail of his face.

He doesn’t feel any bile burning the back of his throat or tears scorching his eyelids. He watches the marks flicker once, before settling back into their original state, momentary sadness now dulled as her faces flashes in the mirror. Despite it being a year and a half, he doesn’t feel as heavy as he first did. Knuckles rapped faintly against his door, bringing his attention away from the mirror.

‘Lance, you awake?’ Keith’s muffled voice sounded void of sleep.

‘Yeah, just in the bathroom.’ Lance replies groggily, throat itching from the lack of water.

‘Your mother is calling everyone down for breakfast.’ Lance nods, only to realise Keith can’t see him.

‘I’ll be out soon.’ Lance begins his morning routine, speeding up the process to avoid his mother’s scolding at his tardiness this early in the day.

He takes one last glance at the mirror before he heads out, a small wave of calm washing over him as he notices the lightness in his step, rather than the heaviness of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you liked this chapter! I honestly didn't expect anyone to read this, much less like it lmao (we really love writers who are easily prone to self doubt). This chapter definitely focused on Lance and Keith progression, as I tried to capture the dynamic they established on the show of Keith and Lance being each other's support systems. I've also tried to tie up a few loose threads and I hope the timeline of everything wasn't too confusing (spent 20 mins writing out the timeline so far because I had confused tf out of myself). Leave me feedback and kudos, I love hearing what y'all have to say! Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this (lmao this note is unnecessarily long bc i'm a sap oops). Remember to rest and hydrate as much as you can!
> 
> Until next time :)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this lil one shot. I hope you did like it. I might turn this into a series? or just leave it as it is? haven't really decided yet. comments and kudos will help make it easier to write these two again so if you wanna do that, i'd love to see your reactions and read your opinions. go drink some nice tea (or coffee), take a well needed nap, cry if you wanna, anything to help ease the shock of season 8. 
> 
> I hope y'all have a better day/night!
> 
> Until next time :)


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